A Quiet Man (Victor Book 9)

by Tom Wood

  ‘You make that sound like it’s a bad thing.’

  ‘That’s because it is,’ Victor said. ‘I thought I knew myself by now. I should know myself by now.’

  ‘People change. Everyone changes.’

  ‘Someone I used to know said people like me don’t change but adapt.’

  ‘People like you?’

  Hired murderers, he didn’t say.

  ‘It was in a specific context. I don’t want to bore you with the details.’

  She pursed her lips. ‘Then what are you adapting to?’

  He wasn’t sure how to answer, but then the waitress arrived to take their order and he didn’t need to. By the end of the meal he still didn’t know what to say.

  Linette looked at his bare plate and the empty basket next to it. ‘I thought you were bluffing. I thought you’d leave half your burger and I’d eat your fries.’

  Victor wiped his mouth with a napkin. ‘You can’t change the laws of thermodynamics.’

  ‘Say what?’

  ‘Energy in versus energy out.’

  ‘I still don’t understand what you’re telling me.’

  ‘A calorie is a calorie.’

  ‘So you’d rather eat two thousand of them as burger and fries instead of two thousand calories of salad?’

  ‘Pretty much. But closer to three.’

  ‘Huh,’ she said, considering this previously unconsidered idea. ‘But aren’t you worried about your arteries?’

  I’ll never survive to an age at which it will matter, he didn’t tell her.

  Instead, he said, ‘I do a lot of exercise.’

  She screwed up her face. ‘I don’t even like walking to my car. But all that talk of thermodynamics makes me think I wish I hadn’t passed on the bacon. I didn’t want you to judge me.’

  ‘I know what happened.’

  ‘To my bacon?’

  Victor said, ‘The breakfast left on the table. The coffee. The car on the driveway. The back door unlocked. Toothbrushes still on the washbasin.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Michelle and Joshua were having breakfast: two bowls, two glasses of orange juice, one coffee. Her boyfriend came round unexpectedly. She made him a coffee but he didn’t stay long enough to finish it. He didn’t stay long enough because they had to leave. But not for work. He told her something that convinced her to drop everything and go right away. No time to pack their things, no time for Joshua to finish his cereal.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘I don’t know, but she was expecting it.’

  ‘If she had expected it then she would have packed. She would have been ready.’

  ‘Would you up and leave your life just because someone told you to?’

  ‘Well, no. But … ’

  ‘That’s my point. You wouldn’t. She wouldn’t. Unless she was expecting it. Unless they had already discussed it and so when he showed up and told her she was willing to drop everything and leave without bothering to lock the back door.’

  ‘I don’t buy it,’ Linette said. ‘She still would have had something ready for that moment. What do they call it?’

  ‘A go-bag.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘They had discussed it,’ Victor said. ‘But she was unprepared. Maybe she thought they had more time. Maybe she didn’t really believe she would ever need to.’

  ‘Then what was she so scared of?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘But that’s why she was out here, wasn’t it? No credit card, no bank account. Off the grid. The husband. Has to be.’

  ‘I was told he’s a real piece of work.’

  ‘Who told you?’

  ‘I’d prefer not to say at this juncture.’

  ‘That wouldn’t have been Abraham Zelnick, would it?’

  He shook his head because he knew where she was going with this. ‘I haven’t had a chance to speak to him yet. But I did hear he cooks meth.’

  ‘The ex cooked meth?’ she asked.

  Victor, recognising in the choice of tense there was a lot more to that question than the obvious, said, ‘That’s what I heard.’

  ‘You heard?’

  ‘Yes, that’s what I heard. I’m planning on paying him a visit but I haven’t got round to it. But I’m working on it.’

  ‘Don’t bother,’ Linette said. ‘Where he lives isn’t there any more.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘A small meth lab burned down yesterday,’ she explained. ‘With the owner inside.’

  ‘Ah,’ Victor said.

  ‘I’m not investigating it so I don’t really know what happened beyond an accelerant was used.’

  ‘Sounds suspicious.’

  ‘Abe was burned to a crisp inside so maybe someone killed him – but maybe he was going to torch the place and slipped on the gas and hit his head after lighting a match. People die in dumber and more horrible ways than that all the time. I could tell you stories that would turn your hair white.’

  Victor remained silent.

  She got a call on her radio and stood to take it, talking out of earshot, but he read her lips well enough to understand the topic of conversation. She returned to the table and took another gulp of coffee, shaking her head.

  ‘What is it?’ Victor asked.

  She finished her coffee. ‘Chaos in the local ER.’

  ‘Define chaos.’

  ‘Aftermath of some kind of battle royale with the Nameless.’ She set the cup down, toyed with its position. ‘There’s seven badly beaten bikers making life miserable for the staff at the hospital and they’ve only just got there. No one’s talking but they got beat up pretty bad. A rival gang, in all likelihood. Must have been a coordinated effort to lay an ambush. Teach them a lesson sort of thing.’

  ‘Do you need to go?’

  She rocked her head from side to side in indecision. ‘Probably, but not urgently. Call was just a heads-up. The nurses have already rung for assistance to keep the Nameless in check. Doubtful I’ll be needed for that, but we’ll have to get to the bottom of what happened before they’re all fixed up and hunting for revenge.’

  ‘Maybe they’ve learned their lesson.’

  She huffed. ‘Wouldn’t that be nice?’

  FORTY-NINE

  Victor’s truck didn’t start on the first turn of the ignition. Not surprising given it was an old vehicle, so he gave it a moment and tried a second time. Still nothing but the whirr and whine of a starter motor failing to start the engine.

  On the third try, Linette knocked on the driver’s window and said, ‘Do you need any help?’

  ‘Sure,’ Victor said.

  She had the hood up by the time he had the driver’s door open and had climbed out.

  ‘Your lights came on,’ she told him without looking at him, ‘so it’s probably a bad ignition switch.’

  ‘If you say so,’ he said.

  He had figured as much but would Wilson Murdoch, salesman from Las Vegas, know cars? Victor decided Murdoch didn’t spend any time getting his hands dark with motor oil. He paid someone else to get dirty on his behalf. Not a rich man, but one who knew his limits.

  Linette said, ‘You’re going nowhere. You have Triple A?’

  ‘Not for this hunk of junk,’ Victor said. ‘I figured it would survive a few more weeks, but it seems I was ambitious in that assessment.’

  ‘I’ll give you a tow,’ she said.

  ‘Don’t you have cop duties to do?’

  ‘I did a double shift,’ she said. ‘Technically, I’m not working right now.’

  ‘Then that’s a kind offer and I accept.’

  ‘I’ll drop you at the shop. Gino won’t rip you off if he sees me bring you in.’

  ‘How reassuring. Isn’t it a bit late?’

  ‘Gino’s place runs around the clock.’

  They fixed up a tow. Linette had all the equipment in the back of her cruiser: straps, rope, even a tow pole. Maybe standard issue.

  Linette led him to
her cruiser and opened the passenger door. With a flourishing gesture, she motioned for him to climb inside.

  She yawned a couple of times on the way to Gino’s and even had a nap in her seat while Victor dealt with the man, who had to be no older than twenty yet ran an auto shop of half a dozen mechanics. Victor explained the situation with his truck and handed over his keys.

  Relinquishing his keys was not something Victor enjoyed doing, and while he could repair the ignition switch himself, he still needed the parts and the tools and had already decided Wilson Murdoch wasn’t good with engines. While there was no pressing reason to stick to that decision, he was already breaking protocol with every minute he remained in the area. He preferred not to add to his list of infractions if it could be avoided.

  Gino promised he would have a new ignition switch fitted within an hour as a favour because he knew Linette. Victor acted surprised and touched by this, but knew Gino was just being smart. He wanted to keep the local cops on side. Which meant he was worried some day they would be knocking on his door about stolen vehicles and parts. Victor had known many Ginos in his youth when stealing cars had been the most efficient way to survive.

  When he returned to Linette’s cruiser, he lightly rapped his knuckles on the window glass to awaken her without a start.

  She wiped saliva from the corner of her mouth and sat upright.

  ‘I was just resting my eyes.’

  ‘Thanks for the tow,’ he said. ‘It’s going to take about an hour.’

  ‘Wanna grab a beer while we wait?’

  He thought of Big Pete and his hockey stick and said, ‘Not for me. And you don’t have to wait as well.’

  She yawned again.

  ‘Do you want me to drive you home?’ he asked. ‘I think it’s past your bedtime.’

  ‘Against the rules,’ she said. ‘Even off duty. I’ll be fine.’

  ‘Maybe you should head home and get some sleep and leave the beer for another time.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said again. ‘And listen, I’m sorry I snapped at you a couple of times when you were asking about my dad. As I’m sure you can imagine, it’s kind of a sore spot for me. You know, being a cop.’

  ‘I understand,’ he said. ‘And there’s no need to apologise. I’m impossible to offend.’

  She smiled and said ‘Challenge accepted’ before sticking a thumb towards the passenger side. ‘Get in. I’ll wait with you. I know it’s hard to believe, but there isn’t exactly a whole lot to do in this town once you take beer off the table.’

  ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘I wouldn’t have said it if I weren’t.’

  He said, ‘You’re too kind,’ and climbed into the passenger seat.

  ‘You won’t be offended if I take a little nap, will you?’

  ‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘I’m enjoying the novelty.’

  ‘Novelty?’

  ‘Tonight is my first time inside a police car.’

  ‘What? You’re kidding. Never, ever? Not even as a wayward kid?’

  ‘Never, ever,’ he repeated.

  ‘Then you’re the first non-law breaker I’ve ever met in my life.’

  ‘Or maybe,’ Victor said as he pulled the door shut, ‘I’ve just never been caught.’

  ‘You’re saying I should take you to the precinct and book you?’

  ‘That depends.’

  ‘On what?’

  ‘Whether you like paperwork.’

  She grunted. ‘I hate paperwork. Every cop hates paperwork. Ask ten cops whether they’d prefer to get shot or do paperwork all day and nine will ask you what kind of calibre you are talking about.’

  ‘Then don’t take me in,’ he said. ‘You’ll be filling in forms until Christmas.’

  FIFTY

  True to his word, Gino had the truck back running in under an hour. Linette slept for most of that time and couldn’t stop apologising for it once she woke up. Victor thanked her again, thanked and paid Gino, and drove away as Linette took another radio call about the Nameless causing trouble for the ER staff.

  Victor needed to keep his hand iced, but he couldn’t do that at the motel because he wanted to keep Fendy on side until he knew whether she could help him or not. She wanted him to stay clear of the motel to keep McAllan happy, which meant he had to find somewhere else to stay. Except he wasn’t keen on using the Wilson Murdoch legend again now it had been compromised by McAllan’s digging. Nowhere in the area would just take cash with no questions asked. People were too law-abiding for that sort of thing in Canada.

  Which left him with few options.

  He could sleep in his truck or he could buy camping equipment from a sporting goods store to sleep in the woods, but neither provided anything close to even a rudimentary degree of protection. Always better to have walls if they were available.

  He had an idea where to go but he needed to clear out of the motel first. Not literally, because he left no belongings in his room, but Wilson Murdoch from Las Vegas, Nevada, would. Even if McAllan knew Victor wasn’t really Murdoch, the pretence was still necessary because he had encountered more people than just McAllan. And even though McAllan knew he wasn’t Murdoch, he was not aware that Victor left nothing behind in his room when he went out each day.

  So, Murdoch would return to the motel.

  Victor had stayed there for five nights in total and had seen several other guests in that time and several accompanying vehicles. Mostly trucks and SUVs and the odd sedan. Given the motel was a small, cheap establishment, those vehicles fitted a particular pattern. They weren’t new models. They weren’t expensive. Often, they were dirty or had rust spots. There were no optional extras.

  Which made the big, pristine Escalade a notable presence in the parking lot. It was a brand-new model. Midnight blue. Seventeen feet in length from bumper to bumper, gleaming in the wash of Victor’s headlights.

  Even more notable was the second Escalade parked next to it. Same brand-new model. Same paint job. Two huge vehicles side by side.

  Each could transport eight, including the drivers. A maximum of sixteen, although he expected more like twelve at most. Anyone who could afford two factory-fresh Cadillacs could afford three smaller vehicles instead. No one liked to be cramped shoulder to shoulder, after all. But no fewer than eight people because those who could afford two such vehicles wouldn’t want to waste money.

  A party of eight to twelve.

  Victor didn’t believe in coincidences.

  He stopped his truck on the opposite side of the lot from them and sat in the dark for a moment. There was limited lighting in the lot so as not to disturb sleeping guests. He angled the rear view to get a better look. There was activity near the SUVs. One of the motel room doors was open next to the Escalades. A man was just inside the doorway, backlit by the lights in the room. That man wore dark jeans and a stonewashed denim jacket.

  Victor didn’t get a better look at him because he noticed another man exiting the motel office. Again, this one wore jeans. But no jacket. Just a T-shirt. He was tanned and hairy, dense but lean. He also noticed Victor sitting in his truck straight away.

  The tanned man had noticed the new truck too. He would have heard Victor arrive when he was in the office and seen the headlights brighten the night. The second he stepped outside he looked in the direction of the new arrival. Perhaps just curious. Perhaps looking for someone in particular.

  No reaction.

  That was unexpected. Victor was so used to people trying to kill him that it was often hard to accept when potential threats showed no interest.

  After the tanned man had glanced in Victor’s direction, he looked away again, continued to where the Escalades were parked and opened up the back of one of them. He rummaged around, maybe opening bags, maybe taking something out or putting something inside. Then he closed the boot and headed into the motel room with the open door.

  Eight to twelve guys.

  They would have three rooms at a minimum. As far as Victor knew,
the motel had double rooms, twin rooms and family rooms. The latter sleeping three.

  Guys in expensive SUVs wouldn’t sleep on the floor.

  Victor climbed out of his truck. He took the direct route to the motel office in case any of those guys were watching him without his knowledge. Even if they were no threat to him, he didn’t want them learning anything about him he didn’t want them to know.

  Behind the desk, the manager stiffened.

  Victor told him, ‘Don’t worry, I’m leaving in the morning.’

  The manager was surprised. Not in the loop. Fendy would have called McAllan by now but McAllan hadn’t called the manager. Not high on his list of priorities.

  ‘Your friend Jennifer paid for you,’ the manager said once he had regained his composure. ‘So, just drop the key on the desk when you’re on your way.’

  Victor nodded. He backed away to the door, turned, and went no further. Instead, he opened the door and held it for the man approaching.

  Another of the party of eight to twelve.

  No denim. This one wore black cargo trousers and an olive polo shirt. About forty. Dark skin. Dark hair touched grey at the temples. He was a little taller than Victor, a little broader.

  ‘Much obliged,’ the man said to Victor.

  ‘Nice ride,’ Victor said back. ‘Rides, even.’

  ‘The planet won’t overheat on its own.’

  There was a look in the man’s eyes as if he knew Victor without recognising him. Victor was pretty sure he had the same look in his own eyes.

  ‘Did he deserve it?’

  Victor said, ‘Excuse me?’

  The man didn’t glance down. ‘Your knuckles are bruised.’

  Victor remained silent.

  ‘Well,’ the man said, ‘the middle two are bruised. Uppercut, yeah? Guy had a narrow jaw and you clocked him with a perfect shot. Your other knuckles hit nothing but air.’

  Victor said, ‘It wasn’t a perfect shot.’

  ‘Are they ever?’ The man smiled. ‘But I bet he didn’t complain, did he?’

  ‘Not even a little bit.’

  ‘A fast-track ticket to dreamland will do that to a fella,’ he said with a smile. ‘You didn’t answer my question.’

  ‘I just did.’